


I Hear Your Call

by for_the_love_of_wolves



Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Full Shift Werewolves, Stiles Stilinski is Part of the Hale Pack, Torture, Warning: Gerard Argent, hurt comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26780659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_the_love_of_wolves/pseuds/for_the_love_of_wolves
Summary: Erica, Boyd and Stiles are at Gerard Argent's mercy. Gerard wants Stiles to pick who dies. Stiles wishes someone would come to help. Someone hears his silent calls.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski & The Pack
Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949101
Comments: 6
Kudos: 259
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	I Hear Your Call

**Author's Note:**

> For Whumptober Day 2: "Pick Who Dies"

Stiles’ ears are ringing. It is a noise so sharp and loud and persistent, it makes his skin crawl. 

The room is spinning around him, the surroundings blurry and swimming in black dots.  
  
Stiles briefly presses his forehead against the cold floor, trying to find something to hold on to.  
  
He finds the pain. It is the only thing, that feels real right now.  
  
The pain shooting through his temples and his abdomen and his chest. The pain that comes from the beating he has just received.

Stiles groans and shivers when a boot nudges his side. "Get up, Stiles," Gerard Argent's cold voice says.  
  
Finally, the ringing stops a bit and Stiles can see contours sharper again. When he slowly heaves his body up, he sees Gerard smiling down at him. And he sees Erica and Boyd, dangling from the ceiling, gagged and wide-eyed, connected to the electric current that subdues their werewolf abilities.  
  
So it is still real, Stiles thinks numbly.  
  
Still real. Not a nightmare. Well then. Fuck.  
  
He grimaces when his stomach clenches and presses a hand against it.  
  
Gerard pats his back. "You will be fine, boy. I hope, you understand now, how the things are. But even if you do, I can't let you just go, of course. No, no. There has to be a message, Stiles."

Stiles just blinks in confusion. A message ... He watches Gerard moving around the room and suddenly revealing something that looks like a sword. A sword. God. Stiles tastes bile.  
  
Gerard runs his fingers over the sheath almost caressingly. He looks up at Stiles, his eyes hard. "Pick who dies," he says curtly. 

Stiles’ breath catches in his throat. His insides seem to fill with icy water. “What?” he croaks, not recognizing his own voice. It sounds so weak and desperate.

Gerard smiles patiently. “I said, pick who dies. I told you, there has to be a message. I have to admit, I quite like you, Stiles. But I just can't let you and these two vermins go. That would make me look like a weak old fool. Which I’m not,” his gaze hardens, “not at all. Pick who dies and this will be over for now. I will let you leave with the werewolf you decided so save. Two of you will live, I'm that generous."   
  
Stiles blinks a tear away. God. This can’t be real. This has to be a nightmare. He can't choose. He can't ... He glances up at Boyd and Erica who watch him. There are tears sparkling in Erica's eyes. Her eyeliner is smudged.  
  
“I can’t,” Stiles whispers. “I can’t. Please …”

Gerard sighs. He sounds disappointed. “Come on now, Stiles. Don’t be pathetic. You were so brave the whole time. If you don’t choose, I will torture these two in front of your eyes until their healing can’t catch up anymore. They will die, and you will have to live with the knowledge that you let it happen. That it was your fault, that none of them lived. Do you really want that?”

Stiles feels like he is falling into an abyss without ever hitting a ground. This can’t be happening. He has no idea how to get out of this. He needs … help. Someone has to help. But no one is going to hear him down here, in this basement. No one is coming. He is on his own. And he doesn't know what to do.

“The clock is ticking, Stiles,” Gerard says, watching him like a hawk, his eyes cold and his face indifferent.

Stiles clenches his hands into tight fists. He thinks Boyd is giving him a tiny nod of encouragement and this is honestly so fucked up because does Boyd really think Stiles would tell Gerard to kill him? He figures Boyd wants Erica to live and tries to sacrifice himself, but Stiles wants them all to live and _God_ , he’s never been that desperate in his life. Why would no one come and help? Please … _Help._  
  
“Stiles ...”  
  
There is only Gerard. And there is an edge of impatience in his voice now.

Stiles closes his eyes. He can’t do it. He can’t order someone’s death. He just can’t. But that means they will all suffer. At the same time, it would mean more time, right? Gerard wouldn’t kill Erica and Boyd right away. First, he would take his time to do bad things to them and can Stiles really watch that? He doesn’t know what to do. For the first time since this started, he just wants to be in his bed, just wants to forget everything about the Supernatural, about hunters and werewolves, everything.

He doesn't want this.

Gerard clears his throat.

Erica whimpers.  
  
  
Stiles opens his eyes. And everything goes to hell.  
  
  
The door bursts open and a roaring shadow with gleaming blue eyes shoves Stiles out of the way - _Peter?_ Stiles thinks with dull incredulity - lunging at Gerard who curses and fumbles for his weapon. For once, he is too slow. Too surprised. The old man makes a noise full of rage when he goes down. It is the last he will ever make. Stiles flinches at the sounds of tearing flesh and at the smell of blood filling the room.

“Stiles?”

Stiles almost sobs in relief when Derek comes through the door next, eyes bleeding red, but expression worried and movements careful. His eyes scan the room, only fleetingly settling on Gerard’s body on the floor. Peter crouches over it, looking back over his shoulder, mouth blood-smeared, his fangs slowly retreating.

“Are you okay?” Derek asks Stiles, looking him up and down.

No. He is not. But maybe, he will be. Now. He just sobs and his shaky legs give way underneath him, making him slip down the wall. Derek reaches out and catches him, immediately pulling pain. Stiles starts to feel like he is floating and it is not necessarily a bad feeling.

He watches half-asleep as Peter slices through the ropes holding Erica and Boyd, easing them to the floor where they get rid of the gags and rub their sore wrists, eyes still full of shock but also relief. They all survived. Stiles didn’t have to choose. Or to watch them suffer because he refused to choose. They survived because … Stiles frowns.

“How,” he tries to ask Derek, his voice hoarse and his throat painfully dry, “how did you find us?”

Derek’s frown deepens. “Packbond,” he says quietly and his eyes flare red briefly before settling back to brown. "Your packbond was screaming."

Stiles blinks. _Wait. Packbond?!_ “What? Me?”

Derek hums. “Peter felt it first. You were in agony and calling for help. And then I felt it too.”

Stiles feels so confused. But there is also a little glimmer of warmth inside him at the thought that he is pack. That they felt him reaching out for help and _came_ . But can it really be? After all, he is not even a wolf. “Uh, Scott said that humans …”  
  
Peter growls quietly from where he is sitting beside Erica and Boyd, pulling pain from them both alternately. “Scott knows nothing about these things. And it isn’t like he is trying to learn about them, right?”

No. He really isn’t. Stiles sighs and closes his eyes. They feel so heavy. And Derek is so warm. He is like a human - well not so human - heater. Maybe he said that out loud, because Derek snorts.

Stiles vaguely feels that he is carried out of the room and laid into someone’s car.

And then he knows nothing at all, because he just passes out on expensive smelling leather cushions. 

* * *

When Stiles wakes up, he is laying on some wonderfully fuzzy blanket on the floor, his head resting on a soft pillow and his hand buried in fur … Wait. _Fur_ ?

Stiles freezes and carefully raises his head. His heart jumps a loop in his chest. There is a whole huge sleeping wolf draped over his legs.

“Don’t wake him up. He’ll get cranky,” Derek says as he enters the room with more blankets and pillows in his arms. He drops them on the floor beside Stiles. Since Derek is very human, Stiles figures the wolf is Peter. Well. At least he looks like a proper wolf now, not like something out of a horror movie. Stiles lays back carefully, trying not to move around too much. He doesn’t really want to see a cranky Peter-wolf.

Derek crouches and starts to arrange the blankets and pillows on the floor carefully.  
  
Stiles watches him for a while, finally not able to hold his curiosity back anymore. “Dude, are you making a nest or something?”

Derek huffs. “Pack sticks together after something like ... this. There is not enough room for everyone in my bed, so I try to make it as comfortable as possible here.”  
  
“Oh. So you are preparing for a snuggle heap?” Stiles says, grinning, “Nice.” He tries to ignore the sudden flare of longing inside of him.  
  
Before Derek can answer, Erica and Boyd enter the room. They still look a bit shaken, but clean and - most importantly - very alive.

“Are you okay?” Erica asks Stiles, crouching beside him and carefully touching a bruise blooming on his face. Stiles smiles weakly. “Yeah, just a bit battered.”

She returns his smile, sees if she can pull some pain from him and then yawns, eyeing the blankets and pillows longingly.

When she and Boyd start to get comfortable, Stiles realizes the werewolves are probably going to want privacy for their shared nap. He clears his throat and looks at Derek unsurely. “Uh, are you going to move Peter-wolf? Because I guess I should leave now …”

Derek looks at him sharply. “You are not leaving,” he says firmly.  
  
Peter growls quietly in his sleep.  
  
“Uh,” Stiles rubs the back of his head. “I should go home right? My Dad is going to worry and you are all werewolves, so I don’t want to be the one annoying and probably stinking human,” he laughs weakly.

“Peter already talked to your Dad. The Sheriff knows you are okay and safe now. He said it’s fine that you are staying here for the night. He will come to pick you up after breakfast,” Derek says.  
  
Stiles frowns. “After breakfast … You really want me to stay here and, uh, join your after-traumatic-event wolf cuddle heap?”

“Of course you should stay, Stiles,” Boyd tells him with his calm voice, “you are pack.”  
  
Stiles feels that glimmer of warmth again. “I am?”

Derek nods. “You are.”  
  
Peter-wolf makes a huffing noise that sounds like agreement, his eyes half-opening to blink at Stiles.

“Okay,” Stiles says slowly, “alright. Cool. I’ll stay.”

Derek looks satisfied. He leaves the room to shift, coming back as a black wolf a moment later. Stiles almost chokes up when Derek-wolf briefly rubs against his cheek and makes a rumbling noise of approval before curling up beside Peter, their shoulders touching.

Erica and Boyd are not able to shift completely, but they curl up almost like they were wolves too, holding hands loosely.

Stiles looks at them and something inside him clicks into place.

Although he can already sense that he will have a horrible headache and aching muscles in the morning, although he is still shaken and shocked by what Gerard wanted to make him do, although he still sees Erica and Boyd in front of him - bound, gagged and dangling, their eyes wide and desperate - Stiles feels calm and at ease.  
  
This experience, as horrible as it was, brought them closer together, he realizes. He suffered with the pack. He fought with the pack. And now he is in the middle of the pack, is a part of it and receives the same comfort as every other pack member.  
  
It feels good to know he has a place now. 

Stiles closes his eyes and falls asleep with a small smile. He wants _this_ , after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm taking prompts for whumptober, check out the post on my [Tumblr](https://for-the-love-of-wolves.tumblr.com/post/630783606050209792/whumptober-begins-today-if-you-have-any-prompts)  
> :)


End file.
